


One Nine-Hundred

by FlareWarrior



Series: Kinktober 2017 [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 11:06:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12253077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlareWarrior/pseuds/FlareWarrior
Summary: But it was more efficient to hate the whole of his twenty-four years breathing, since all human decision making was based on past experiences or some shit, so he did because the fucking speaker of the day was the phone sex worker he'd been calling for a year.Or: Harry has some odd hobbies, and Eggsy suffers greatly for them.





	One Nine-Hundred

Eggsy regretted his life.

Specifically, he regretted the string of decisions that had brought him to the third table on the left in a country club's annual awards ceremony, or whatever - he hadn't paid attention when Roxy invited him past 'there will be free drinks,' and he sure as hell didn't care what it was now.

He regretted a second, much longer string of bad decisions that had led to him having a blistering crush on a voice.

But it was more efficient to hate the whole of his twenty-four years breathing, since all human decision making was based on past experiences or some shit, so he did because the fucking speaker of the day was the phone sex worker he'd been calling for a year.

It had started with a very drunken dare, a truly laughable excuse for a TV add, and an expectation-shattering orgasm courtesy the velvet tones and polished syllables of one _Hart, like Madonna_. It had continued as a filthy habit.

On the fourth time, because Eggsy was drunk and feeling good and stupid, he'd stayed on the line and complained about something or other for a good long while - Hart was paid by the minute anyway, he figured, where was the harm.

The harm was apparent about three months later on call number who-knew-by-then, in broad daylight and stone-cold sober as he laughed at Hart's incredible burst of vanity at finding a grey hair. The warning bells should have gone off full blast when he hung up without so much as undoing the zip on his pants, but, as they say, a frog doesn't notice it's being boiled if the water heats gradually, and Eggsy sure as shit hadn't spotted the disaster coming until all he could do was resign himself to his fate.

He'd sat and looked at the wall for a very long time while he thought about what an idiot he was. But it was alright, he'd figured as he re-defined his personal definition of the term, it was _fine_ , because he was never going to meet Hart anyway.

Or so he'd thought.

"Eggsy, are you alright?"

"Fine," Eggsy said, and snagged two champagne flutes from a passing waiter to throw back like shots, thoroughly undermining the statement.

"Hemingway once said that..."

Eggsy looked mournfully at his two empty champagne flutes as Harry Hart's voice continued to ring mercilessly through the venue. Roxy raised her eyebrows at him.

Eggsy buried his head in his hands and mumbled, "That's Hart."

He heard her clothes ruffle as she looked around for anyone wearing a sparkling t-shirt that said _I work for a sex hotline_ or whatever she expected of the nebulous Hart character Eggsy talked to on the phone.

"Where?" she whispered.

Harry was still talking in his polished upper-class syllables and Eggsy's only response was to whine in as dignified a manner as possible.

"Oh my  _god_." Eggsy thought she sounded far more thrilled by the revelation than was warranted.

Harry kept on relentlessly, and Eggsy sank his teeth into his lip to keep from making any more embarrassing sounds.

Thing was, and this was terrible, Harry was hotter than his website model. By like, leagues. Stratospherically. Eggsy'd been contemplating propositioning him in the bathroom, getting a good taste of the sculpted chest he was barely containing behind perfectly-fitted buttons and a few other things besides, before Harry'd stepped up onto the stage and opened his terrible, no-good mouth and unleashed his sinful voice.

That he was gorgeous was forgivable. What wasn't forgivable was that he seemed to be exactly the person Eggsy spoke to on the phone - clever, sarcastic, witty, and above all a kind and good-hearted gentleman. What Eggsy'd been able to catch of his speech had been moving and insightful. There was a damn good chance he was acting a bit for the crowd, but this was his public persona. It should, by definition, be a little closer to who he was than his anonymous phone sex line personality.

If anything, he sounded a little more fake.

Fuck the open bar, Eggsy was going to need to drink a few gallons at a gas station if he wanted to get through the night.

Miraculously, once Harry left the stage the evening rolled on without further incident. The free champagne helped tremendously.

He had a few close calls and near run-ins with the guest speaker, but Harry was in high enough demand that Eggsy always managed to skirt around the edge his belt of orbiting CEOs relatively unnoticed. It was still early in the night when Roxy batted her eyelashes at him.

"Eggsy, would you get my coat for me?" Roxy asked, and Eggsy had half a mind to say _get it yourself_ for the way she hadn't been able to wipe a grin off her face since she found out Harry Hart was _the_ Hart.

But he'd really rather take the chance to escape, lest he use up his luck and run into the esteemed (and fuck was he esteemed, the people Roxy associated with were the kind of rich where no one knew their names and they were shitting themselves over having Harry at the party) Duke Harry Hart. At some point he was going to get around to wondering why the fuck Harry worked a sex hotline, but given Harry’s status he'd bet his left nut it was a fetish thing. Or a symptom of repressed sexual urges forced on him by high society's condemning gaze, in which case he would be more than willing to provide a more physical outlet, but he shouldn't be thinking like that until he was well away from the party and the public.

"Yeah, alright," he muttered. He sulked off and Roxy was sly enough to wait until he was looking away to let loose her devilish grin.

He was so focused on keeping his head down and his mouth firmly _shut_ that he was in the coat closet before he properly registered there was someone else there shifting through the hangers.

"Ah, hello."

 _Trap_. He'd fallen right for it, too. Harry smiled at him kindly while he stared, mentally flatlining because of course he'd imagined Hart before, but none of his fantasies could have prepared him for how ridiculously attractive the man was for real. He looked so goddamn good in his navy suit, a sleek and perfect fit over his fluid, hypnotic walk and gestures. He was tall and imposing, had a presence that reached out and curled around you so you might thank him for ensnaring you, had you the brainpower left. His hair was perfect, and Eggsy found himself seeking out what gray had made him rush to a barber for a dye job months before even though he was sure he wouldn't find it. He'd seen all this from the crowd, of course, but the coat closet was only so big and like gravity, Harry Hart's pull got stronger with proximity.

Eggsy deliberately said nothing.

"I can't seem to find my jacket. I'm convinced I left it right here," Harry said with a slightly self-deprecating lilt to his voice, snapping Eggsy back into reality a hair too late.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And _locked_.

An awful rush of panic and denial swept down Eggsy's back. He whirled on the door and tried the handle, cursing when he found it as locked as he really should have expected. They hadn't skimped on the quality of their doors at the club, either. He would have to do something drastic if he wanted to escape, like kick the handle in and make a scene. He was weighing the pros and cons of doing just that, whipping his phone out of his pocket to threaten Roxy with whatever came to mind, when Harry sidled up beside him.

"Who the devil would lock the coat closet?"

"I'm texting her a nice fuck you right now. Want to add something?" Eggsy said, anger making him forget himself.

Harry's form went still.

"I'm terribly sorry, have we met before?"

Fatalism crept over Eggsy. He felt the kind of manic calm that he assumed people got when watching tidal waves sweep towards them. He unleashed his third rapid text and shuffled around to face Harry, keeping his eyes on his feet as he spoke.

"'M Eggsy," he mumbled.

When he stole a masochistic glance up at Harry he found the man blinking rapidly as he tried to catch up with the situation.

"Ah," he said faintly.

Guilt and embarrassment bubbled up in Eggsy's chest in equal measures. God, this was such a _disaster._  "I swear I didn't plan this. Roxy's just bein' a git."

"And Roxy is Roxanne Morton?" Harry asked. His voice had a false levity Eggsy hadn't heard before. Eggsy nodded. "I know her parents, wonderful family."

"Shame they adopted the antichrist." He cracked a poor excuse for a grin. Harry was still just kind of looking at him, all unreadable, considering marble. Eggsy bit his lip, fought the urge to shuffle his feet. "What are you even doing here? Thought you went to drama school."

"I did, for three years before following in my family's footsteps and switching to politics. I don't think they ever forgave me for how much better a history of acting made me at the profession."

Harry smiled, and Eggsy's heart fluttered at the sight. The air wasn't as awkward as it probably should have been, though Eggsy had no clue what the social code was for meeting the man you called to get you off and accidentally fell a little in love with.

"I'm not stalkin' you or nothin'. Roxy is - _was_ my best friend." He rapped on the door to emphasize the shift in tense. "Came for the free drinks, if I'm being honest." Harry hadn't asked but he still felt like it needed to be said, even though Harry’d stopped looking quite so caught and started looking a little more cautiously hopeful.

"I'm sorry to hear that, the drink selection is an affront to the patronage." The quip startled a laugh from Eggsy, and Harry's smile became more genuine at the sound. "I suppose I'm not exactly as you imagined."

"Not quite," Eggsy allowed, though really not at all, since fit, brown-going-gray hair, and brown eyes told him precisely nothing in the long and short. Harry didn't shift or look awkward, though Eggsy still got the impression he had anyway.

He rolled his shoulders, all false nonchalance. "So, what do you think?"

"I think I've been trying to get out of here all night before I get charged for public indecency." It was out before he had time to stop it, and he remembered to hate his life a bit. Harry's eyes darkened at his words, but he wasn’t sure with what, exactly. So he started rambling. "I won't tell anyone, swear down. Roxy only knows because I've, that is. I mentioned you. Hart, I mean. And it was pretty obvious I was dyin' inside when you were on stage."

Harry's smile turned positively wicked at that. A single step brought him so close Eggsy could almost taste his aftershave on the air, feel the heat rising off his body.

"Were you glad for the table, Eggsy? Did it hide how hard you were for me, just from hearing my voice?"

"Fuck," Eggsy hissed. He was a poster child for pavlovian responses by that point, cock thickening in his pants for something like the third time that night just from Harry's voice, just like Harry said. " _Hart._ "

"Harry," Harry corrected him, and something dangerously hopeful flared to life in his chest. Harry took another step, backing him into the wall beside the door. "It was terribly remiss of you, never mentioning how _stunning_ you are. I could drown myself in those eyes of yours."

He placed a hand on the wall next to Eggsy's head and Eggsy was glad to be pressed there, because his knees were threatening a strike. His brain was checking out to lunch a little more with every honey-dipped word from Harry's inviting lips, and he’d have been embarrassed, if he’d had the presence of mind, at how quickly Harry had reduced him to putty in his hands.

"I've been watching you tonight, flushing whenever you looked at me." Harry said, Hart's voice attached at last to a person, one lingering just a short distance away from him. "I've something of a rule, you know, not to take anyone home from these things. But I was considering making you the exception."

"Harry," Eggsy gasped, and Harry's eyes flashed.

" _Yes_ ," his tone has dropped, taking on a savage edge for the word before rising back to sinful. "I imagined how I could make you tremble beneath my hands. I pictured leaving bruises on your hips when I watched you move around the room. And I imagined exactly the voice you have, screaming my name while I took you apart."

Eggsy was pretty sure he'd died, he was so fucking wrecked by Harry Hart and his filthy voice and proximity. "So fuckin' do it then," he managed to taunt, though in reality he was begging.

"No, I think not," Harry said, low and tempting. "I'm going to take full advantage of this opportunity. I want you to show me what you do when you call me."

"That ain't full fuckin' advantage and you know it," Eggsy was going for his belt, though, which ruined the effect.

A dark chuckle made him shiver, "Don't sell yourself short, Eggsy. I know very well you can manage two rounds with proper encouragement."

"You gonna give it to me?" Eggsy asked, feeling light-headed and cheeky.

"Oh, absolutely," he said, watching Eggsy as he got the button and zip undone. "Pull them down. I want a decent view." Eggsy bit his lip, hooked his thumbs under his waistbands, and shoved his trousers and pants down around his thighs.

"Good," Harry purred. "Look at you, already leaking for me. Such a gorgeous cock on you, my boy."

Eggsy waited. He swore he could feel Harry's gaze trailing up his reddened, aching dick as he looked and _looked_.

"Go on then," Harry allowed at last, and Eggsy almost buckled at the first touch of his palm sliding over the drooling, exposed head of his cock.

"Harry," Eggsy moaned, hypersensitive with Harry hovering just out of reach, watching him as he spread pre-come down his shaft and started to pump. "Fuck, talk to me, wanna hear you while you watch me fuck myself for you."

Harry licked his lips and Eggsy almost went off, babbled about how much he'd like to have those skillful plush things wrapped tight around the base of his cock while he came down his throat, but then Harry was talking and he shelved the idea for later.

"I wish we had brighter lights. I want to see your cock shine in your hand. I want to strip you naked and see how far down the blush on your cheeks reaches."

"Oh god, please," Eggsy bucked into his own fist, a fresh dribble of pre-come easing the glide.

"You hold yourself so tightly. _Impatient_." Harry was still impeccable in his suit, hanging close and watching, his voice velvet-smooth and low, marvelously near and real, and Eggsy was desperate to touch him, rumple him up, feel his body while the chance lasted. "What would you do if I made you wait? Would you come apart for me, Eggsy darling?"

Eggsy keened at the moniker, trailing a hand up to his lips. He slid two fingers into his mouth, coating them while Harry traced the motion with his eyes. He was leaned over Eggsy, and gravity and the increasing humidity had loosened his coif, making him look a little wild and a little ravenous. Even if Eggsy hadn’t been gagging for it himself, he'd have kept going just to see the high flush on Harry's cheeks darken.

He broke off while Harry's voice became a lightning-quick murmur over his nerves, trailed his fingers down past his cock, behind his balls.

The last time he'd called was two days ago, when Harry'd told him to spread his legs as far as he could and ride three of his fingers until he came and he'd done it, spent far too long on the line pleading with Harry to let him come even though Eggsy had complete control over his hands. So he was still a little loose, still a little open, and he was able to press both fingers in while his body gave nothing more than a token burn in protest.

He gasped through it as his fingers sank in to the knuckle, working his dick desperately in his fist while he did. He was barely slick enough but it didn't matter, not when the stretch he wanted was hotter, larger, better, so that even rough his own hands couldn't do what he wanted. He set a punishing rhythm to compensate, crooking his fingers and moaning when he grazed his prostate on every rough thrust.

"Show me." Harry rasped.

Eggsy spread his thighs wider, tossed his head back as he took his hand off his cock to lift his balls out of the way so Harry could watch his fingers disappear into his own body. Beside his head, Harry's fingernails dug into the wall.

"Lovely. How many times have you described this to me? You do yourself an injustice. I could write sonnets on how greedy your arse is." Harry's breathing pattern was completely uneven at last, and Eggsy twisted his fingers on a keen at his words. "Tell me, how does it feel?"

"It's not enough," he said immediately, his voice a whine. "It's never _enough_ , Harry. Want you in me, want to be split open on your cock."

" _Fuck_ ," Harry growled, and Eggsy gave up and went back to stroking himself, his hand making lewd wet sounds that echoed between them in his haste. "Later, Eggsy. Later I'll spread you open so slowly you'll cry for me to fill you, and when I do you'll forget everything but my name." He’d leaned close now, so his words ghosted over Eggsy's neck. "What can I say to get you off? Tell me how to make you come, darling."

"Tell me...tell me something that does it for you. For real."

Harry's little chuckle ruffled his hair and made him quiver. "I'm afraid it won't be very steamy."

"Please," Eggsy whispered, so fucking close, but he wanted to hear it, wanted to know.

"You asked me to talk about my day once. Just that while you touched yourself." Harry began obligingly. "You were laughing at something I said, so exquisitely breathless, and you broke off and came gasping my name. I swore I could feel you panting against my skin." He leaned close to speak into Eggsy's ear, so much better without the tinny filter of the phone speakers between them. "Do you know exactly how hard it is to make a man my age come in his pants, Eggsy?"

Eggsy sobbed and bowed against the wall, darkness skirting the edges of his vision as he spilled into his own fist. He worked himself clumsily through it, knowing without looking that Harry had drawn back and was watching every second of his orgasm.

“Oh, yes. How very gorgeous you are, my darling,” Eggsy mewled embarrassingly and shivered on a powerful aftershock, then collapsed back, panting for breath.

Harry let him be for a bit, shivering in the aftermath after he eased his hands off and out of his body. Then he shifted, retrieving something, and Eggsy found a pocket square pressed into his come-stained hands.

“Thanks,” he murmured, cleaning them up as best he could. He was loose and relaxed, still not quite thinking straight, when he opened his eyes to look at Harry. Harry looked about a second from ravishing him on the coat room floor.

"Would you kiss me?" He asked, impulsive and grinning impishly against his own moderately clean fingers. "I always touch my lips after. Imagine how you might-"

Eggsy found his hand yanked away from his lips and pinned to the wall above his head, something he forgot a second later when Harry descended on him and proved he was just damn good with his mouth.

Eggsy arched into him, starving for touch after having Harry hover a breath away for so long. Harry swallowed his moan of delight, delving his tongue between Eggsy's parted lips and making him shiver. Eggsy got his free hand onto the back of Harry's neck to anchor himself, drew up to kiss him deeper and wetter, sloppy with his orgasm and still somehow yearning for more. He moaned and yeah, alright, Harry wasn’t wrong. With the right incentive, he could go twice.

" _Jesus_ , Harry," Eggsy gasped when they broke apart. "Why're you so fuckin' fit?"

"I like to take care of myself." Harry replied, that lovely voice gratifyingly rough.

"How about you take a break and let me do it for a bit?"

Harry's eyes were _black_ , a combination of the low lighting and his blown-wide pupils. "I'd rather we went someplace more suitable first."

"Fine. God, you're so picky." Eggsy nudged him back and he went reluctantly. Now that Eggsy wasn’t panicking or coming apart with lust, he realized he'd been a bit of an idiot.

"We're still locked in." Harry said.

Eggsy dug into Roxy's coat pocket and came up with a spare pin. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."


End file.
